


Letters By Candlelight

by jalapeno_eye_popper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assistant Hermione Granger, Emotional Baggage, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione has a Temper Too, Post-War, Potions Master Severus Snape, Severus Snape Lives, Slice of Life, Smut, Snape is rude, They Just Want Privacy, candlelit dinner, fan mail, love letter, there's plot if you squint, they're trying so hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29359479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalapeno_eye_popper/pseuds/jalapeno_eye_popper
Summary: Severus and Hermione go into business together with their privacy protected as much as possible. They screen their post the best they can, but sometimes the hate mail still slips through. And the fan mail, too.This story contains mature content with an explicit final scene.Written for the Page 394 Winter Holiday fest prompt: Candlelit Dinner. Complete in 3 chapters to be posted by Valentine's Day 2021. Beta'd byAshJullietandSelf_Indulgent_Nonsense.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 24
Kudos: 110
Collections: Page 394 Discord Winter Holidays Celebration





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [00_Page_394_Winter_Holidays_Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/00_Page_394_Winter_Holidays_Collection) collection. 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione asks for Snape's help; then he asks for hers. The first of many candlelit dinners.

In the two weeks following the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger was very busy. She attended funerals, got blind-drunk with Harry and Ron, failed to avoid the press, and tracked down her parents. Unfortunately, they were not responding to her attempts at obliviation reversal. Common knowledge asserted that it couldn't be done, but Hermione was determined. An expert Healer at the Janus Thickey ward agreed to a consultation, but she had already tried both of his suggested spells. He could only offer a red-faced admission that Severus Snape, who was recovering in a tiny private room on the first floor, might know more about magic related to memories than all the Healers at St. Mungo's combined.

Thus, she researched carefully, drafted more possible rituals, and then went to the bedside of the greatest living mind-magician. She had expected him to refuse. She had expected him to insult her. She had expected him to be a cranky git. Only that last was an accurate prediction.

"It's about fucking time," he said, slamming shut a book and tossing it onto his bedside table. Then he ran a hand through his hair and shimmied awkwardly, grimacing as hauled himself to a more upright position.

Hermione pulled the door shut behind her, not taking her eyes off the surly dark man struggling with the crisp white sheets. "I'm sorry, what?"

He sneered, "These imbeciles make me wish I didn't make it. Six more weeks with incompetent Healers will be unbearable, especially with all my books under lock and key until the Ministry decides what to do with me." He gestured to the discarded volume, face twisting in distaste. "The nurses have some conspiracy to only offer me romance novels and poetry. For Merlin's sake, give me an intellectual challenge or I will go barking mad."

She stood there for a minute, taking a moment to observe him while he glared at her. His neck was bandaged completely, and a loose grey robe made him look much smaller than the towering monolith of the classroom. She could well imagine his frustration if the attending Healers were ex-students, no longer intimidated by him. She was the same, really, and she might drive him barking mad, too.

But if he wanted something to keep his mind occupied, she could certainly deliver.

That night, Hermione would lay awake in bed with her mind racing from their discussion of spells, potions, and rituals for restoring lost memories. The next night, she would lay awake in bed thinking that he had praised her in a rather Snape-like way, by insulting _everyone else_ and implying that she could provide sufficient intellectual stimulation to save his sanity. After a quick word with Harry, suggesting he throw his name around to see what he could do about Snape's confiscated personal library, Hermione went to Australia. She only needed one more attempt, and she cried tears of joy after a successful ritual with her parents.

They were _not_ happy. A few days later, she was home again, crying tears of grief after they’d told her they wished to keep their new child-free life -- as far as possible from the girl who had violated their minds.

While she was out of the country, Harry used his influence to get Snape and the Malfoys cleared of all charges with the Wizengamot. They were officially heroes. The press had a field day. Snape's photo in the _Prophet_ showed a few signs of his steady recovery: smaller bandages, better-fitting robes, and a new suite at St. Mungo's. She noted the small bookshelf beside the bed with some relief. The new room also had a more comfortable bed and a sofa where he sat for an obviously-forced interview, arms crossed and hair partially shielding his face. His posture was stiff, and he hardly moved. The only way Hermione could tell it was a magical photo was the way the interviewer made beckoning gestures, as if a physical connection could draw him out instead of make him retreat behind his coldest glares. As she read the far too-personal questions and his stilted answers, she wondered if Snape employed Occlumency to get through it. She would, in his place.

A week after that, Hermione went back to Snape to thank him for his assistance. He gave her a suspicious glare, but before he could say anything, she asked, "Is there any way I can repay you?"

That's how she wound up returning three times a week to screen his post. It wasn't long before they were on a first-name basis. You could only read so much of a celebrity war hero's mail before all sense of propriety went out the window.

"Goodness, this one is quite... explicit," she said, cringing as a waft of perfume from the pink stationery assaulted her senses.

Next to her on the sofa, Severus gagged on the offensive floral scent at the same time as Hermione's jaw dropped from the woman's flowery language for all the ways she wished to thank him for his sacrifices. "Burn it," he gasped.

Hermione cast a ventilation charm, and then looked at the rest of the envelope's contents and blushed. "She sent nudes. Nice tits, I suppose. Do you want to see?" She nearly laughed out loud at the horrified expression on his face, but she managed to keep her cool and simply drew her wand to vanish the letter and photos.

Severus scowled deeply for the rest of that afternoon, but she didn't think much of it. After four weeks, she realized he was less upset about the hate mail than the fan mail. He didn't like the attention either way, but something about praise from a stranger put him on edge. He bristled uncomfortably at the polite _please_ and _thank you_ from any of his Healers just doing their jobs. He didn't like it from her, either, and she learned quickly not to say _thank you_ for anything trivial, such as a lent-out quill or an invitation to sit. Considering what she knew of his life, Severus was understandably suspicious of _anyone_ offering gratitude or praise.

Hermione began bringing her mail, too, and they laid out sheets of parchment on his hospital bed, comparing their respective fan base and finding them not so different. She got her fair share of hate mail, and they both forwarded some very interesting threats to M.L.E. for investigation. She also got her fair share of effusive praise, thanks, and sexual offers.

The first magically moving dick pic was promptly put to flame. Severus offered to track down and curse the inadequate cock for her, which brightened her mood considerably. It might have even been her first genuine smile since the Battle of Hogwarts, and she began wondering if she could make him smile, too.

In late August, the letters began to include job offers. She also received recruitment letters from magical schools of higher education. Severus was adamant that he would never step foot in a classroom again, and they both sent polite refusals to Minerva's requests that they consider teaching at Hogwarts. His reply didn't start out polite, of course, but Hermione managed to convince him to keep it simple and professional. "She wants to see you, you know."

He raised one eyebrow.

"She feels terribly guilty about believing the worst of you. I don't want to say too much. It's not my place. But I believe her remorse is genuine, and I suggested that you might understand a thing or two about remorse."

Severus shouted at her for that and sent her away.

When she returned at her usual time, Hermione was nervous. She knew he was going to be discharged soon, and she didn't know how to ask what he was going to do. Luckily, she didn't have to ask. He simply shoved a stack of parchments under her nose and said slowly, "I will not work for anyone else ever again."

As she read the documents, a grin bloomed on her face. He wanted to run his own business. He wanted to brew potions on contract for retailers, Healers, and private companies. Sixteen letters of interest were already included in this business plan. He had a deed for a small property in Hogsmeade that would serve as a dedicated workshop but no storefront; all transactions would be handled by post or a third-party courier. He would have privacy, intellectual challenges, and a rather comfortable income.

The final document was a six-month contract for hiring an assistant. She read it carefully and saw he prefilled the printed names at the bottom. Hermione gasped and felt tears well up in her eyes. He wanted her to work with him, and she immediately knew this was the right choice for her. She blinked them back and looked at his carefully neutral face. "Oh, Severus, this is amazing. Thank you!"

He scowled, which no longer gave her pause. She reached to take his hand in hers, and his breath hitched. Severus tried to pull away, but she held fast, and he closed his eyes, saying quietly, "I know you thought of enrolling in the Potions Mastery program at Verrbâton, and I cannot offer that level of tutelage."

"Going to France was just a way to stay out of the spotlight," she murmured. She squeezed his hand and waited for him to open his eyes to see her sincerity. "The privacy baked into this plan is perfect. Are you sure I won't be intruding?"

He nodded.

Hermione wasn't about to let this chance slip away. She summoned a quill from her beaded bag and signed the contract.

\----------

When Hermione Granger accepted his offer of secluded working conditions, Severus Snape did not waste any time getting her involved in setting it up. Two days after his release from St. Mungo's, they had their first visit to the new premises in Hogsmeade. She proved helpful immediately.

Her privacy spells were top-notch, which he knew from briefly encountering them in the Forest of Dean. Her paranoia ward, in particular, was constructed with the brilliance and nuance of a Dark Arts expert, and a less keen eye for such magic might never have realized that the creeping anxiety of approaching the campsite was magically induced. Anyone bearing a Dark Mark already felt an undercurrent of paranoia directly from their Master, and it was only decades of analyzing this feeling that had tipped off Severus to the difference. At the time, he was both annoyed and relieved that this was only the first of many layers of protection, and he hadn't been able to get through them all without risk of tripping her alarm wards.

Now, the stray thought of _I shouldn't be here_ was exactly what he wanted as a first impression for anyone who approached their door.

For added security, they waited until dusk, applied disillusionments, and apparated to the High Road in Hogsmeade before making their way down a side-street to their new workshop. Together, they protected the building. The casting rituals were almost like a dance around the perimeter, and Severus revelled in the raw power of the magical barriers they erected together. It had been a very long time since he felt so much like his own wizard and not someone else's tool.

They physically bolstered the weak points of the structure. They made sure unwanted guests would feel wary and ill. They applied passwords and pattern locks and alarms. The anti-apparition ward covered all but one hidden back corner of the property -- it was a calculated risk to allow apparition on the grounds out of sight, but they should be the only ones using it, and they'd rather be hidden from their neighbors as they came and went.

Then he taught her to key her wards to specific people. It was something that had to be done from the inside of a structure, with a bodily offering, and Hermione trembled as they pressed their bleeding palms to the oak door. "It's just blood, Hermione," he murmured. "If there is anything good or evil about it, then you and I balance and protect each other."

She swallowed hard, staring at the door but obviously not seeing it, and her teeth worried at her lip for a moment before she said, "I just wish I had known this... so that Ron could have found us again right away."

Severus scowled deeply. He had some things he _could_ say about the way Weasley abandoned Harry and Hermione, but he held his tongue for her sake. Instead, he said, unsure if it was really true or not, "It works better on a visible, permanent dwelling."

Hermione sniffed and gave him a curious look. He kept his face neutral, though his heart was hammering from this little white lie. He didn't have much time to think about the meaning of his desire to spare her feelings, as the magic finally recognized them and sent tingles down their spines.

She visibly shuddered. So did he. Then he cleared his throat and conjured a damp towel to clean his hand, and then the door. "All that said, we should not leave any trace of it lying around, here or anywhere else. Now that the wards are keyed to us, anyone with a... _sample_ could get through."

Hermione had conjured herself a damp towel as well, and she was frowning as she dutifully swiped between her delicate fingers. She asked, "What about hair, or saliva, or skin oils?"

He smirked. "Two points to Gryffindor for the pertinent question. Since we used blood, it must be blood. Any bodily offering would have worked to perform the keying, but blood is safer as we do not generally leave it behind on the things we touch."

She nodded, staring at her hand. Then she shook her head and flashed a toothy grin that made him want to return her smile. As if her delight was contagious, he felt an involuntary tug in the muscles he used mostly for sneering and rarely for genuine merriment. Hermione's tone went wry as she said, "Awarding points and teaching valuable security lessons sounds like maybe you should have taken the Defense post again after all."

Severus rolled his eyes. "The whole point of this is to prevent contact with teenage miscreants."

"And yet I'm standing right here." Her voice took a teasing lilt and her eyes twinkled with mischief.

His stomach did a little flip, and he had to remind himself that she was only just out of school. She had been through so much, and it was easy to forget that he had twenty years on her. He resisted the urge to assess her physically. Doing so now could only be excruciatingly awkward.

"Severus, tell me if this is a stupid idea..."

Now he was intrigued, watching her carefully as she shuffled her feet and trying desperately not to let his eyes wander below her neck.

"The thing is, my parents' house is already plagued by paparazzi, and living there alone has been, well, let's just say it's not so good for my mental health." Her brow furrowed, and she rushed through the rest. "Is there enough room to renovate the upper floor as a residential flat? I could pay rent, of course. I'm a very discreet roommate, and you wouldn't --"

"Cease your prattle," he interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was odd, sometimes, just how alike they were. When he dropped his hand and looked at her properly, she was blushing, adding a rosy glow to her bronze skin. "We shall have to see if it's big enough for two bedrooms."

Her eyes went wide.

He sighed and admitted with a smirk, "My house is already plagued by paparazzi, and living there alone is likely to be less than ideal for my mental health."

It was always risky to throw someone's words back at them, but Hermione let out an airy laugh.

The upper floor was big enough. A little magical prodding re-arranged the walls into a living space with two bedrooms, one large bath, and a small but serviceable kitchen with a comfortable breakfast nook. They both agreed that bigger bedrooms and minimal communal space were for the best, even if meals would be a bit too cozy on the window bench.

That first meal was the next night. With magic, it only took a day for each of them to pack up their old homes, so they were quickly ready for a private little housewarming event. She insisted that she couldn't cook to save her life, and he didn't fancy testing his rusty skills, so he popped out to a muggle place he used to patronize during his holidays from Hogwarts, and he brought back take-away curry.

He was only gone for twenty minutes, but Hermione already arranged and charmed the breakfast nook into something decadent. A tiny, round table with fold-down sides dominated the space, and the window bench was upholstered in in a green-and-gold paisley pattern, with deep green throw pillows. Sheer gold curtains hung down over the large panes of frosted glass, and the warm glow of the sunset poured in. When he saw her, Hermione was facing away, one hand on her hip and the other casually flicking her wand to mount sconces and a hanging candelabra, though she did not light them. The golden glow from the window backlit her silhouette, drawing out the highlights of her curly brown hair. Severus froze, enchanted.

She was brilliant, and she was beautiful. Living with her might just be torture.

He gulped, sorely tempted to flee. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he shuffled noisily for her benefit, and the full force of her smile when she turned nearly froze him again. She didn't seem to notice, but he was hyper-aware of her for the next hour. She smelled amazing, powder fresh despite their physically and magically demanding day. She looked happy, her inner glow brightening even as the sunset dimmed. She spoke enough for both of them, and he was content to let her babble, telling him about her typical days and the way she lived -- how she liked her tea, the books she'd read at the end of each day, and how cranky she could be in the morning without enough sleep at night.

When the lights faded too far, he drew his wand and lit all the candles. He watched the change as a new golden glow illuminated her bronze skin and cinnamon eyes. She was a vision of radiant warmth. Rarely used muscles in his face twinged as he felt a genuine smile tug at his lips. Living with her might be torture, but it would be sweet torture indeed. Severus sincerely hoped this was only the first of many candlelit dinners with Hermione.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is getting ready with their Valentine potions. Fan mail is the catalyst for a declaration.

January was an interesting month. New Year's Day involved brewing gallons of short-notice hangover cures for the courier's pickup, so his accounting books started firmly in the black. Then, Severus wasn't sure how Hermione found out about his birthday, but at the end of the day, long after she had gone to bed, he found a wrapped gift leaning against his door, and he spent the whole night reading his new book. Mid-month, they began preparing for Valentine's Day.

Orders for this holiday started coming in immediately after Christmas. Requests for restricted love potions were passed on to appropriate authorities, but they had quite an array of sexual enhancements to brew, as well as epic quantities of Sober-Up Potion and hangover cures, anticipating both this holiday and Saint Patrick's Day a month later. Obviously, all these sex potions were  _ not _ in the Hogwarts curriculum, and Hermione asked him to supervise her brewing a little more closely than usual.

Any excuse to watch her was fine by him.

Hermione's hair was gathered up in a messy bun, and he was pleased that she picked up his habit of washing with a specialty potion prior to long brewing days. It amplified the grease factor, but it reduced shedding to avoid stray hairs in the cauldron. Where this oily potion made his black curtain of hair ugly and lank, it seemed to tame her wild frizz into pleasant curls, and his hand kept twitching with the desire to touch them.

She didn't look away from the cauldron she was stirring, but she held out her free hand and said, "Please pass the ground billywig wings."

He did, and she simply continued working, much to his relief. In the early days, she had a habit of saying  _ please _ and  _ thank you _ for every little thing, and it grated on his nerves. She didn't have to be polite while they were doing business. He preferred silent efficiency, so he could think about more important things.

Like her deliciously soft, bronze skin. They had only touched a few times in the months they'd been living and working together, but he knew the feeling of her delicate wrist as he guided her hand at the cauldron, the bounce in her curls that matched the buoyant joy of learning something new, and the firm grip of her fingers when he was caught up in a terrible memory and needed to be shaken back to the present.

After adding the last ingredient to the cauldron, Hermione tapped the count of her stirs on her thigh, and he wished to know that part of her, too. She said, "I'm glad you mentioned George saying the doses would be repacked as sweets, and also for lending me your book with this recipe. I would not have considered the potential  _ itchy _ side-effect of combining billywig wings and chocolate."

"I didn't  _ anticipate _ it, either, but learned from another's misfortune." He paused a moment before saying the rest, as neither of them would be happy if she lost her count. "When we were in school, Avery always had ample gold for potions he could trust to spice things up with his girlfriend. She did  _ not _ appreciate this one directly after dessert."

Hermione's lips twitched, but she finished the last two stirs and laid the rod with the other tools before letting a brief cackle escape. Severus felt his own lips turn up in amusement, and he lined up the two large bottles for the new brew, casting to add a dosing label and warning not to mix with chocolate. He wasn't looking when she asked, "May I keep the book a bit longer?"

He turned to her in surprise. Usually, she wouldn't ask before reading a potions text from the workshop. Giving her access to them was, after all, the main reason he put them there instead of the magically extended shelving in his bedroom.

She explained a little, "At first I was alarmed at the way you mark your books, but I have to admit they are full of brilliant insights. Your notes inside are precious and irreplaceable, and I promise it won't leave the building."

_ Brilliant. Precious. Irreplaceable. _ Severus scowled, wondering what she really wanted.

Hermione blushed and returned to the bottling task. "And now I've embarrassed you. I'm sorry. I'll just return the book immediately."

"No," he said softly. "Read it. No doubt your opinion will be less complimentary when you get to the chapter on poisons."

She frowned as she capped the second bottle and began cleanup, casting a sterilizing charm on her tools and a nonverbal  _ scourgify _ for the first scrub of the cauldron. Severus felt exceedingly awkward, with sweaty hands and an urge to shuffle his feet. The potion was finished, and he felt useless for the cleanup and guilty for doubting her kindness. He stepped away, his boots clacking on the floor purely for her benefit. He was perfectly capable of silent steps, all the better for catching delinquent students in years past, but that was not necessary anymore. Hermione berated him thoroughly the first and only time he snuck up on her in the lab, and he accepted it with grace, apologizing for causing the waste of her botched potion.

They didn't usually say much while working, and they both seemed to prefer it that way. They talked plenty outside of the potions lab. In the wizarding world's absence of decent mental health services, they quickly discovered that talking to each other was the closest they'd get to therapy. They always waited until the evening meal to check their mail, which was the most likely thing in their day to trigger them.

In the beginning, this meant frequent stashing of unfinished dishes into the magical icebox, as one or both of them lost their appetite or stomped off in a rage, but it was getting better. As the weeks stretched into months, the hate mail and howlers were filtered out by their wards, slowly refined as they learned all the ways their post might upset them. Hermione was his last line of defense, and she opened all of their mail. She had thick skin and learned very fast, and it didn't take him long to trust her judgement on whether a bit of post would make him fly off the handle... or break down crying.

She had seen that happen exactly once, and he had lashed out disproportionately against her attempts to comfort him. It was not a performance to repeat. He didn't want to shout at her. He didn't want to slap away a compassionate hand. He didn't want to lose her by becoming the monster that half those letters accused him of being.

These unpleasant thoughts carried him up the steps to their residence, and he got straight to work on their supper.

\----------

Hermione sighed as she stripped off her protective gear. The dragonhide gloves and apron landed in a laundry hamper. The boots were toed off at the lab's threshold. The splash shield charm was canceled with a quick  _ finite. _

Severus was already long gone. No doubt he was up on the residence preparing supper. That had been a very pleasant surprise. She couldn't cook to save her life (as she had discovered very painfully in the Forest of Dean), but he had quickly learned to handle a saute pan just as well as a cauldron. She still knew not to say  _ thank you _ for such trivial things as the passing of potions ingredients, but she was making more efforts to offer bits of praise rooted firmly in undeniable fact, like his fabulous cooking.

She popped from the lab to the adjacent office space, snagged their post for the day, and made her way up to the residence. As predicted, Severus was busy at the kitchenette, and whatever he was making smelled of Italian herbs and garlic. After an intense day brewing with Severus looming, she was feeling quite greasy and longed for a shower, but that could wait. The humid aroma caused her tummy to rumble, and Hermione began to set the table.

With a few swishes and flicks, the candles flared to life, drapes closed, and a light jazz station set to low volume on the wireless. Then she focused on the place settings. Their lightweight plates had strengthening charms. She was the one, actually, who first broke the dishes in a fit of rage when the Order of Merlin nominations came, and hers was First Class but his was Third. The tablecloth had a temporary sticking charm, and the table itself was secured to the floor with the permanent form of the charm because she had very nearly flipped the bitch after she ran out of plates and cutlery to throw.

At the time, Severus had sat in shocked silence, and then quietly admitted no one had ever put on such a display for his sake. That was the day Hermione had to admit to herself, it wasn't just the principle of the thing. She didn't care about anyone else's medals. She cared about Severus. She despaired at the pained look that always preceded his tantrums. Her heart ached every time he reacted poorly to a compliment. She wanted to shower him with affection and praise, but she held back, trying to find a way that he would believe it without her trashing the dining space again.   


Now, he brought a serving dish to the table and gestured for her plate. He served them both silently, and she selected white wine from the icebox to pair with the cream-sauced pasta. After a moment of shuffling and pouring and clinking, they were seated next to each other on the window bench, sipping slowly and eating small bites.

After she was sure she had enough, just in case things went tits up, she gestured to the stack of envelopes and asked, "Ready?"

His eyes darted around the table, and Hermione recognized the stalling tactic of checking every detail. Level in the wine glasses, food on plates, napkins at ready, and candles burning steady.

She stopped waiting for him to actually reply. "First, the things we might have expected... St. Mungo's has requested a rush order of twenty more antidotes to Amortentia. Shall we accept, with the standard emergency fee?"

He gave her a curt but clear nod.

Hermione opened the next missive. "Ginny is throwing a party for Ronald's birthday..." As she skimmed for details, she wondered how bad of an idea it would be to ask Severus to go with her. "...in three weeks. Have you been to the Burrow since it was rebuilt?"

His expression closed, but not before she caught a peek of something like annoyance.

"Right, stupid question." She sighed. "Molly has already mentioned hosting a massive summer picnic in their yard. That could be a better time to go. You should at least see the work they did on the structure and compare notes on the wards with Bill. I could find out if he'll be attending, or perhaps if he's coming home to visit sooner, so you don't have to endure the entire Weasley family all at once."

For a moment, silence reigned, and then Severus said quietly, "Yes, that would be acceptable."

Since both of these messages required a reply that could wait for tomorrow, Hermione tucked them into her pocket and reached for the third and final envelope. It was larger, likely holding several sheets of parchment. She did not recognize the return address, so she cast a few revelation spells and considered what might have been able to get through their filter wards this time.

While howlers had been easy to ward against, the more subtle hate mail still slipped through, and the fan mail was  _ much _ harder to distinguish from the legitimate correspondence. Their business relied on communicating with a frequently changing set of clients, so they had to err on the side of seeing more than they wanted. Photos featuring intimate anatomy were the easiest to remove, and certain keywords, too. Hermione vividly recalled Severus' hesitation about modifying the Taboo Curse to incinerate any parchment bearing fuck-words that made it to the property. They had a long talk that day about the grey line between light and dark magic, and in the end, they chose very limited filters.

Severus cast a couple of extra revelation spells for good measure, and then nodded expectantly, as if to say,  _ Get on with it, then. _

After carefully breaking the seal, Hermione relaxed a bit. Nothing jumped out of the envelope, which was a distinct possibility. She pulled the stack of parchments and frowned. One folded-over letter, two clippings from the  _ Daily Prophet, _ and another from  _ Witch Weekly. _ She handed them to Severus and said, "I never expected to get pictures of myself, but this is a creep factor I don't think I can handle. Can we ward against photos of us, too?"

He nodded, and she opened the letter. "Oh," she said, relaxing again, and then reading aloud, "Dear Miss Granger... Will you please autograph these for me? You are an inspiration... Blah, blah blah." She held out her free hand, gesturing for him to return the photos as she set down the letter and drew her wand. "I may as well, I suppose. Doesn't cost me anything but a few seconds, and it might mean the world to him."

She summoned a quill, and he picked up the letter. "No, Hermione, you are too kind. Think about the message it sends when you perform like a celebrity for a stranger."

Hermione frowned.

He was still looking at the parchment, and he grimaced. "You didn't finish reading. Listen to this." He shifted to sit up straighter, preparing to project, a habit that Hermione recognized from his teaching days. She mentioned it once, and the way he had berated her made her feel like she was eleven years old about to get a detention, so she never brought it up again. She simply smiled at him every time, exactly as her lips twitched now, but her face fell steadily as he dramatically drawled, "And you are so beautiful, too. Is your hair as soft as it looks in the pictures? Sometimes I read the  _ Witch Weekly _ interview, look at your picture, and feel like I'm there, looking into your whiskey eyes --"

"All right," she interrupted, reaching to take the letter before he could read out anything more embarrassing with that sneering tone. "I get the idea.  _ Whiskey eyes? _ Who talks like that?"

Severus did not let go of the parchment. He simply looked over it at her, smirked, and said, "They are more like cinnamon."

Hermione could feel heat rise in her cheeks. She didn't quite know what he meant. Was this a friendly tease? If she was honest with herself, she had to admit she usually tried  _ not _ to look him in the eyes, knowing what he could do with eye contact and a single word. It wouldn't take him even a minute to find her overwhelming affection for him. He could hardly take a compliment; she'd scare him off entirely if he knew.

"Hermione," he said slowly, drawing her gaze. "The question about your hair..." Severus raised a hand to tuck a stray, oily curl behind her ear, and he whispered, "It is a privilege to know the answer, and that your skin is even softer."

She trembled as his fingers caressed her jawline before retreating. Before she could second-guess herself, she snatched up that hand in hers and brought it back to her face, pressing dry kisses to the pads of his fingers. "And my lips?" she asked in between puckers. "Even softer yet?"

Severus let out a humming sound that vibrated straight to her core. Then they were kissing, and it was a divine dance, filling her senses with herbs and sweat and pure hot desire. He kept his hands respectfully fluttering over her neck and shoulders, and she realized he was tracing the hemlines where her clothes made a tantalizing promise of more skin.

When she broke away for some air, chest heaving as she tried to clear her head, he wrapped his arms around her and asked softly, "Would you join me in my bed?"

She coughed a little awkwardly and pulled away to look him in the eyes. Hermione still felt a little gross from the hard day, and he wasn't exactly grease-free at the moment. Forcing down an inappropriate giggle, she focused on the practicality of their situation and suggested, "Bath first, please. Let's get clean before we get dirty."

A wicked smirk graced his features, and they scrambled to their feet. Severus waved his wand to put supper away, and Hermione flicked hers to douse the candles. A hasty bath preceded languid love-making, and they fell asleep that night in each other's arms.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With magical candles dancing, the fan mail gets rather more personal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who prefer to skip the smutty final scene, the story has a reasonable ending at the perspective change denoted by "----------"

The  _ whiskey eyes _ request for autographed photos was only the beginning of the Valentine deluge. For the next three days, letters with various levels of saccharin adoration made it through all their filters. Even with daily improvements, enough fan mail still arrived that the evening meal became a game of reading out the other's fan mail in a most dramatic gushing performance. The winner was who held out the longest without either laughing or raging.

Severus tried not to be  _ too _ smug about his three-day winning streak. When Hermione figured out that Occlumency helped, she skipped right past any accusations of cheating and got on with learning to do it herself. Her only condition was that they both stop Occluding when the games moved to the bedroom.

He could live with that.

Sometimes it frightened him how easily he lowered his barriers for her. He had faced mortal peril many times, but this was an entirely different kind of vulnerability. His life had been so full of secrets, and he spent a long time hiding everything from everyone.

Knowledge is power. Truth is a weapon. Feelings are irrelevant.

That's how he had to live for  _ decades, _ and he wasn't sure he knew what to do with so much openness and kindness and  _ love. _

He did love her. That much was obvious. He shared everything with her, and he gave her anything she dared to request. He trusted her to ask only for things that would enrich their lives, and that trust was a hook where he could hang all his doubts. He still had doubts, of course. Considering what happened to the last woman he loved, he was bloody terrified. If Hermione hadn't  _ also _ faced mortal peril many times, he supposed he would feel quite guilty for exposing her to the risks of associating with him.

But he'd had enough guilt. It was time to let that go. Right now, he was happy. He'd never before felt this level of personal satisfaction and contentment. In the workshop, he was in charge, the master of his own destiny for the first time in his life. In the bedroom,  _ she _ was in charge, and, sweet Merlin, she was a generous mistress indeed. She had no use for his doubts; she wanted only his devotion.

He knew a thing or two about devotion, and it was so easy to show it when she simply asked for what she wanted. She had all the boldness associated with her Hogwarts House, and she had proven there was no need to second-guess her motives. She wouldn't let anyone stand in the way of their happiness, and he firmly believed that if he was not making her happy, he'd be the first to know. She wouldn't hold back, and she would get what she wanted.

For their Valentine's Day evening meal, Hermione asked him to prepare a light supper. She implied some sort of plan that would be easier without a heavy feeling in the stomach. Severus was anxious with anticipation, and he decided he wouldn't be able to eat much anyway. While Hermione freshened up after another long day of last-minute orders, he prepared chicken and vegetables for roasting, a quick and easy feat for a wizard. A magic oven meant it only needed five minutes to cook to perfection, and he swiftly set the table.

They needed new candles. In the drawer, he found enough to replace the ones in the chandelier, but the wall sconces would burn out early tonight. Hermione would be able to coax them into a taller form. She was rather better at Transfiguration.

Hermione's bedroom door opened, and his breath caught. Her hair was wild as ever, but she stepped with compelling confidence and grace. She wore a simple gold dress that fitted her every curve, and he found himself quite jealous of all that fabric caressing her skin. In one hand, she held two envelopes with today's post.

"Were you thinking about me?" The little smirk on her face made his heart skip a beat.

His eyes narrowed, but a tiny smirk snuck its way onto his lips. "Always."

Hermione slowly stepped close to him, and his heart raced. When they stood toe-to-toe, she said, "Good. I was thinking about you, too."

A fluttering feeling rose in his gut, and Severus took a tiny step backward to drink her in again. Head tilting oh-so-slightly, he asked, "Is there a catalogue with such delectable eveningwear? I should like to mark my wishlist."

She ducked her head. "I didn't buy it myself. Actually, I have already opened all of today's mail, and I allowed parcels through the wards, to see if we got anything good from our many admirers on such a  _ romantic _ day." She must have recognized the caution in his expression, for she hastily added, "Don't worry, love. I have thoroughly tested and inspected everything. Most of it was horrible, anyway, and promptly incinerated. But this..." She looked down at herself and grinned. "I wanted to see if you like it, and now that I know you do, can we pretend I meant to buy it all along? Or perhaps that the designer is one of my fans and simply wished the paparazzi would put their work on the front page of all the tabloids?"

He leaned in to give her a quick kiss. He murmured against her lips, "Let's leave the public out of it."

To the sound of her airy laugh, Severus slipped his hands around her waist and discovered the feeling of the fabric over her curves. This dress was made of something impossibly soft, and he could feel her warmth through the thin material. Quite without his permission, a brief moan rumbled through his throat. He cut it short by kissing her again, but she put both hands on his shoulders and squeezed until he stopped. "I am hungry," she whispered, brushing her cheek against his. "Just a few bites of whatever smells so amazing, and then for dessert --"

Later he would kick himself for not allowing her to finish her suggestion for dessert, but mentioning the food changed Severus' focus entirely. In a flash, he was levitating the roasting pan out of the oven and scowling deeply. He'd been doing so well with the cooking. The very idea of disappointing her, on today of all days, squeezed his chest with a sour pressure. He had plenty of shames to go along with his guilts and doubts.

And Hermione didn't have much use for any of them. "I'm sure it's fine," she cooed, tossing the post onto the table and casting to fix the candles. The sconces brightened, and he could better see the charred skin over the breast meat. He snuck a glance at Hermione, and while she conjured a dozen extra single candlesticks to decorate the table, he waved his wand to vanish the burnt top, sneering at the roasting pan as if he could blame it instead of himself.

Hermione took the few steps to stand behind him, holding both his biceps with her hands and peering around him. The contact grounded him. Her hot breath on his ear sent a shiver down his spine. Severus cleared his throat and cast at the chef's knife to begin carving the bird. "It will be dry," he said simply, wondering if he could delay long enough to make a gravy. He abandoned the idea, and in a minute they shimmied onto the window bench and picked at their plates.

It  _ was _ dry. He  _ should _ have made that gravy.

Consumption of each tiny morsel was followed by a generous sip of wine, and Severus doubted the wisdom of finishing the meal at all. If Hermione hadn't already said she only wanted a few bites, Severus might have read too much into the way she put her fork down earlier than usual to pick up the first envelope. "Ready?"

He didn't hesitate before nodding. Hermione smiled, and he felt the fluttering in his stomach again, a highly unpleasant sensation with the meager solids and ample alcohol.

"This one is from Harry," she said, unfolding the message but obviously not reading from it. She was looking directly at Severus when she continued, "He says he has a good secretary who handles his post. The man's credentials are exemplary. His day-job involves screening everything that arrives for the Aurors, and he works for the Weird Sisters whenever they promote new releases. I am hoping you will allow me to set up a meeting to discuss our current approach versus what a professional could offer."

When she held the letter out for him, Severus took it and skimmed it. He didn't particularly want a stranger to review all their post, but it wouldn't hurt to get that expert opinion. He handed it back and said, "Yes. Set it up."

Her smile could light up the room far better than all the candles. Then she gingerly picked up the other envelope and hesitated. Slowly, as if measuring each word carefully, she said, "This one is for you, and I want to read out the entire letter before you say anything."

That was an odd request. Normally they would heckle their fan mail as they went. He shoved his plate away and turned his full attention onto her. He couldn't possibly eat another bite, not with this serious tone from Hermione.

Her eyes flicked down to the parchment, and then back up to his. She was nervous. He didn't know what to do to comfort her. Surely, this note would be just as ridiculous as the others, but he had a bad feeling about saying so. Severus considered whether or not he could trust this gut feeling, and he considered Occluding to keep his anxiety in check.

Finally, without any drama or mockery, she began.

_ "Severus, _

_ "There is something very special about a man who will do whatever it takes to correct a grave error. Many others have said that risking death was some kind of ultimate sacrifice, but I know better. Acceptance among Death Eaters was something you earned by merit while others overlooked you or even held you down. There is a key point in my own life where acceptance by new friends made all the difference, and I don't know if I could ever give them up, even if they threaten other people I love. It would be easier to die." _

A chill ran down Severus' spine. What the bloody hell was this? There was only one time, with Hermione, that he had spoken about his reasons for joining the Death Eaters. Who else could possibly know, or even guess? Hermione didn't look up. She simply continued.

_ "I'm very happy you survived, and I hope you are finding happiness, too. Even though your photos in public are just as snarly as ever, I like to think you can sleep at night without a permanent scowl etched on your face. Your words were always abrupt, even rude in their biting wit, but I wish to give you reasons for sweeter sayings. Nothing too daft, of course. I don't need flowers and poetry, although I could probably still recite a certain logic puzzle in eight ominous rhymes." _

Hermione was smiling as she read this, and Severus felt his chill turn to heat.  _ She _ wrote this letter. He hadn't written poetry since that protection for the Philosopher's Stone, and any he wrote prior was tucked into a blood-warded journal. He should probably burn it to remove any possibility that she'd find and read the angsty ramblings of a pining teen. Then he would write something new for her, a worthy reply to this letter. He completely unblocked, dropping all of his inner protections and opening his mind and his heart. Whatever was still on the parchment and yet to be heard, he needed to know and experience the full depth of his feelings about it.

_ "Your brilliance is astounding, but you know that already. Your humility is more surprising, especially for brewing so many potions that anyone could do in a pinch. Mass producing Sober-Up Potion is not a great intellectual challenge, but you do it with the same focus and precision as Wolfsbane or Felix Felicis. When you turn your intense focus onto me, I cannot deny my visceral reaction." _

He saw when she snuck a glance at him, and he saw the knowing twitch of her lips. This wasn't a game anymore. There would be no more fan mail at the dinner table. Hers were the only words he wanted to hear.

_ "Others have described your eyes as 'obsidian orbs' because they only see your stone-cold glare. It is a privilege to know what your eyes look like when glittering with satisfaction from a job well-done, as well as the softer shape when you are relaxed and thinking deeply... And it is my honor to have seen them shut tight against pain and tears." _

She lowered the parchment and raised her eyes. The firm tone and steady cadence suggested she was still giving prepared words, but she held his gaze. He held his breath.

_ "I like this private life we have built together, and I want to keep it. I love you. Yours now and always, Hermione." _   


Severus was speechless. He sat there for a full minute, trying to remember how to breathe. It was long enough that Hermione shifted uncomfortably and worried her teeth on her lower lip. His focus zeroed in on that spot, and he leaned in to kiss her. Nothing he could say would ever live up to the performance she just gave. Soon enough, he would tell her how much he loved her, but for now, he would show her.

\----------

Hermione felt a little bit guilty about using Occlumency to make it through those declarations, but she was actually encouraged by the idea that it all still rang true, even with her emotions compartmentalized and shielded. Hermione knew it wasn't the most romantic love letter. Severus would never accept gushing praise. Hell, he was probably Occluding, too.

His eyes were glazed, and Hermione bravely but slowly loosened the tight grip on her emotions. The nervousness hit her like a ton of bricks, and she bit her lower lip to keep it from wobbling.

And then he was kissing her, and she breathed a sigh of relief and pleasure. Her hands were occupied by a parchment that was extremely precious and yet terribly in the way. She pulled away from his greedy mouth and held up one hand, panting but smiling.

"Just a second," she whispered, folding the parchment and slipping it back into the envelope. Then she glanced at the table and decided it was too full of flames for safety. With a flick of her wand, they all rose up, and a swish sent all the single candles dancing around the chandelier.

That was better. Now she could set down the letter and return her attention to Severus.

He pounced, pressing his lips firmly to hers and wrapping his arms around her, running his hands up and down her back as he sought entry with his tongue.

Hermione moaned loudly and opened, nipping at him to slow him down, but this caused him to groan, his hands groping harder and tongue thrusting deeper. She whimpered in response and pulled away again, only enough to draw up her legs and scramble into his lap, straddling him.

Severus groaned again and rumbled, "Dessert." Then he was lifting her up, planting her bum on the table instead of his groin. "Is this what you had in mind?" he asked, snapping his wrist to draw his wand and cast in one smooth motion.

Her knickers disappeared, and Hermione gasped. Severus pushed the skirt of her gold dress up to her hips, and then he descended.

This was  _ not _ what she had in mind. She rather wanted to get a thorough taste of  _ him, _ but all thoughts of pleasuring him were pushed roughly aside as he devoured her pussy with his hot, wet mouth. He had proved quite eager to please in the past few days, and she was certainly reaping the benefit. Severus never did anything halfway.

Leaning back on her elbows (narrowly avoiding his abandoned plate) and sighing with happiness, Hermione gazed at the head between her legs. His dark hair brushed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, and one hand played behind her knee, not quite tickling, but heightening her awareness. Her blood rushed in her ears as her heart pounded and her breath quickened.

Low and throaty, she crooned, "Mmm, that's so good, Severus."

For all his hangups about praise, he responded rather well when it was corroborated by her sopping snatch. He pressed his tongue hard against her perineum and swiped slowly upward, rolling it at the last second over her clit.

"Ah, ah," she panted.

The hand at her knee slipped upward slowly, and his lips closed over her nub as he pushed two fingers gently inside.

Hermione moaned loudly, feeling a gush of her own wetness. With perfect coordination, fingers and lips and tongue drove her pleasure in a spiral, up, up, up...

Her eyes drooped and closed as her world narrowed to the contact with Severus. She slowed her breathing to keep control. Though quite capable of multiple orgasms, she knew there was nothing quite like the first big release after lengthy anticipation. Gingerly, she found purchase on the table with her hands and lifted herself more upright, opening her eyes as Severus pulled back to look at her.

She moaned again, seeing her wetness on his face. In an instant, she slipped back down into his lap, grabbing his shoulders and kissing him, tasting herself on his lips. He was wearing far too many clothes. "What was that spell?" she whispered. "You are overdressed."

He drew his wand and gave her a questioning look.

She grinned. "All of it."

Suddenly he was nude, and Hermione's mouth watered. She ran her hands over his chest and lowered her lips to his collarbone, at the edge of his scars. Dragging her lips over his hot flesh, she murmured, "On the table with you."

The dance of limbs was awkward as they switched places, and she giggled as she prodded him into position, one joint at a time. He raised a brow as if doubting the table would hold.

"It's quite secure now, love," she assured him. And then she stopped talking to start feasting.

Severus was already half-hard, and he gasped when she took his thick cock in her hand. Hermione ran her tongue along the underside of the shaft before closing her lips over the head. He groaned, and his hips shifted with his need to thrust. Her other hand gripped possessively at his thigh, holding him in place. She loved those sounds he made, and she felt him swell and harden quickly under her attention.

"Hermione," he croaked, burying a hand in her hair and tugging.

She didn't remove her mouth from his prick, in fact upping the intensity by drawing out a long, vibrating, "Hmmmmm?"

Now she had  _ him _ panting, and she was high on the power. She felt his hand withdraw, and he leaned slightly forward. This made it a little awkward to keep her face in his crotch, and she leaned back to see just what he was doing.

He was bracing on the window, and once his hands were secure, he shifted again to open his knees to make more room for her. At this time of year, darkness fell early, so all the light came from the candles, diffusing as it reflected on the frosted glass, and glowing warm on his pale skin.

A wicked little chuckle escaped her, and she stooped lower for a better angle. One hand rolling his bollocks, she took another long lick up and down his shaft and took him all the way back to her throat.

"Uhnnn," he grunted. She slowly sucked and bobbed, simulating a good deep fuck, and his legs began to tremble. She put both hands on his thighs in a firm grip, and she lifted her eyes to look at him as she hummed around his cock. His eyes were closed, and he moaned, thrusting deeper despite her effort to hold him steady.

It was a bit too much for Hermione. She pulled back with a sloppy  _ pop _ and grinned up at him. "Bed?"

He was panting, his chest heaving and his hair swaying, and she wished she could tell him how utterly beautiful he looked. Someday. For now, it was enough to show him how much she wanted him. When he caught his breath, he simply said, "Yes."

The dancing floating candles followed them to her bedroom, and Hermione pulled Severus by the hand. Bossy as ever, she gestured with the other toward the bed. "Sit against the headboard."

With an amused gleam in his eye, he complied.

"Perfect," she whispered, crawling up to straddle him again. His hands rested gently on her hips, and she put hers on his shoulders. In between every word, she dropped soft kisses over his face. "You. Are. Perfect."

Then before he could object, deflect, or otherwise cast doubt, Hermione reached down to guide him inside her.

She sank down, and he shifted up, and they both groaned at the joining. Full, tight, hot, and wet. Hermione closed her eyes and felt a shudder through her body and a throbbing in her pussy. His hands ran up her back, pulling her for a kiss before sliding back down and gripping her arse firmly through the flimsy gold dress. She tilted her hips to rock slowly and shallowly. "Ahh," she sighed with each thrust against him.

He gripped harder and buried his face in her hair. His warm breath puffed on her ear, causing a wave of tingly pleasure to race down her neck. Her hands flexed, straining for more leverage as she changed the angle of her hips to better grind her clit against him at the full seat of every thrust.

Severus groaned in her ear, and then sucked in a gasping breath before sighing, "Perfect."

She didn't know if he was accepting her praise or offering it in return. It didn't matter. Again her world narrowed to the points of contact with Severus: the rhythmic panting in her ear, the strong shoulders under her trembling hands, the firm grip on her backside, and their hips moving in tandem to press his rock-hard cock into all the most delicious spots. The soft fabric of her dress slid along her curves for an extra sensation of decadent pleasure.

Hermione picked up the pace and moaned. "Yes," she gasped, "like that."

He helped steady her, pulling and pushing to keep the timing.

Her narrow world exploded, heartbeat pounding in her ears and pulsing through her quivering pussy. She threw her head back and cried out, "Yes! Oh, Severus!" Her legs shook, but he kept moving her, the full length of him in and out and in again, extending her pleasure beyond what she could do on her unsteady knees.

Hermione opened her eyes as Severus tugged at her legs, pushing her back and settling between her thighs. He didn't waste any time, thrusting back inside with one smooth motion as he braced on his hands above her.

She sighed and let out a tiny, airy moan each time he pushed deep inside. His eyes locked to hers, and she didn't care anymore if he was trying to read her. She wanted him inside her, in every way.

And maybe he understood that thought as it flitted across her mind, for he immediately groaned and snapped his hips. He drove himself into her with wild passion, over and over. His eyes closed, and Hermione reached to pull him down for a kiss.

It was awkward. He was working too hard, panting and straining, and she broke the kiss but did not take her hands from his neck and shoulder.

"So good," she gasped, stroking every bit of skin she could reach. "You feel so good." He was close, she could tell. "Come for me, Severus. Come inside me. Give it to me."

He thrust once more, burying himself deeply and crying out her name. Under her hands, she could feel the muscles strain and shudder. Within, she could feel the hot pulses of his cum, and she felt a bone-deep satisfaction that he released himself into her. He didn't need to write a love letter for her to know how he felt. He gave himself to her so freely. For now, that was declaration enough.

Severus relaxed and rested on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his temple through the curtain of black hair.

After a moment catching his breath, he nudged at her ear with his nose and then whispered, "We have all those  _ enhancement _ potions for the holiday. Want to try one?"

She grinned, and they scrambled to prepare. She went down to the lab and collected the doses. He cleaned up the dinner table and prepped a snack tray for the bedroom.

And they made love all night, dancing in the sheets below as the candles danced above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fun little story is complete, but an artist will have an accompanying work for you soon <3 Stay subscribed here or get subbed with [Francis_SinBin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francis_SinBin/profile) to be sure you see it!


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